


Of Tea and Firebending

by BrusselsSprout



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Family, Gen, but ignores the comics canon, canon-compliant with the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-08-04 19:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16353146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrusselsSprout/pseuds/BrusselsSprout
Summary: This is the story of Zuko and Iroh, hot leaf juice and firebending, spanning through the years.





	1. Mugicha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new prince is born on a night of the full moon.

_ A journey begins _

_ Anticipation rises _

_ Dragons await you. _

  
  
  


The palace garden looked magical; the full moon coated the trees and flowers in a delicate silver veil and reflected brightly in the pond. For once though, Iroh, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation did not have time to admire their beauty. The fire sages brought him troubling news - time was of essence. He looked up the golden facade of the east wing of the palace; his brother’s residence. 

“You came here to gloat?” A shadow stepped out from behind a pillow.

“I only want to see my nephew, Ozai.” Iroh looked at his brother trying to keep his voice level.

“He’s a weakling, lucky if he survives the night.” His younger brother said bitterly. “The fire sages cannot even assure me that he has the gift.”

“Every life is a gift.” Iroh said gently, thinking with heavy heart of his beloved wife and child he had lost in childbirth a few years before. Luckily, he still had Lu Ten. The boy was the joy of his life. 

“Don’t need your preaching, Iroh. Easy for you to say, your son had the spark. I will not have the shame of my first-born being a non-bender. The fire sages duped father that mixing with Roku’s bloodline would produce a strong heir...but all it did was reproduce Roku’s weakness...” Iroh sighed. Ozai was wasting a fleeting moment of happiness to complain about something that was beyond their control. But he knew from experience that his arguments would just make Ozai dig his heels in even more. 

Instead of continuing with the argument, Iroh entered the residence of his sister-in-law and walked straight to the bassinet, disregarding the bowing servants.  The baby looked fragile. His eyes were shut closed, his little forehead distorted in a pained frown, his tiny hands curled into tight fists. 

“What a beautiful little prince. Congratulations, Princess Ursa.” Iroh smiled at the exhausted woman who laid in her bed under crisp blankets. Iroh knew that Ursa was unhappy in the palace, like a caged songbird. Still, he tried to encourage her to find happiness in what she could. Their long talks of art always felt like a reprieve from endless politics and war meeting. They have become allies; two people who cared more about beauty and joy than about the cold logic of war. Still, duty was something that had to come before personal desires. Or so they were taught.

Ursa did not return the smile. “Ozai is disappointed, I know he expected power and might. But we almost lost him - the cord was wrapped around his neck...” She started to cry. 

“Yet he survived, against all odds. You know what I see, Princess Ursa? I see a fighter. I see someone who despite being so small already overcame great obstacles. He was meant to be born.” He saw her face light up a little at that comment.

“Thank you, Iroh,” she whispered forgetting proper protocol. Iroh just looked in her pale gold eyes, and nodded. Then he turned to the fire sages.

“Why do you think he doesn’t have the spark?”

The sages bowed to the crown prince. “Your highness. The boy has not opened his eyes yet, but his chi feels weak. We cannot detect any fire in him.”

Iroh scoffed impatiently. “It’s the full moon - all our powers are weakened. The little prince just went through quite a trying experience. I, for one, certainly see a spark in him and limitless potential.” He caressed the baby's fine hair, his silky face, his little hands. The boy’s fingers suddenly curled around his thumb and gripped it with surprising strength. His eyelids fluttered revealing eyes that burned gold like fireflies. 

Iroh smiled. “Look at his eyes, it’s a rare colour of pure gold. I’m certain he will grow up to be a fine prince we can all be be proud of. I expect this is what your report to the Fire Lord will say too.” The fire sages bowed. 

Iroh left the room, his steps lighter.  Ozai was still brooding in the shadows of the courtyard.

“You are lucky to have a fine son, Ozai. May he bring you a lot of joy.” Iroh touched lightly his brother’s shoulders in conciliatory gesture, but Ozai just jerked away. Iroh sighed. His relationship with Ozai had always been fraught - but as their father grew older, things felt worse every day. He hoped having a child would temper his brother's quest for power and bring out in him a new appreciation of life. Fatherhood changed people.

On the way back, he stopped in the garden and watched the full moon as it bathed in the pond. It was a beautiful night, indeed. 

 

\- 0 - 0-0-

_ “Prince Zuko, it’s time to wake up. We are waiting for you.” Zuko stared at the blue and red dragons with awe. They were magnificent creatures as they circled around his head. They hovered in front of the boy; looking at him with pale gold eyes. The red dragon bowed his long neck as if inviting him to come along. Zuko’s heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he grabbed the smooth, warm scales. The dragon flew through the window and soared towards the sky. Zuko held tight onto the dragon’s neck as they  broke through the darkness, the clouds and emerged into the light. The dragon got closer and closer to the sun.The golden rays penetrated Zuko’s skin filling his body with heat. It started as a pleasant tingling, but increased in intensity until it felt like all his limbs were on fire.  _

Zuko woke with a jolt. Something stirred in his blood tugging at him, urging him to go outside. He tiptoed carefully out of his room, down the steps of the summer house and walked towards the beach. It was a dark, starless night. He gazed out at the ocean, wondering if the dragons were really there. His heart was beating to the rhythm of the waves crashing against the rocks. He took a couple of deep breaths and felt the first ray of the sun piercing the dark shroud of the night. The boy closed his eyes and let the faint sunlight caress his skin.

Soft footsteps startled him. When he looked up, he saw his uncle and cousin descend on the path. Iroh smiled warmly at him. 

“You are up early today, Prince Zuko.”

“I had a strange dream, Uncle.” Zuko greeted them with a bow. “I went riding with two dragons.”

Iroh’s eyes widened slightly. “Two dragons? What did they look like?”

“There was a blue and a red one and they were huge, yet graceful. Do you think there are real dragons, Uncle?” Zuko asked hopefully. 

Lu Ten chuckled. “Don’t you know, Zuko, that father conquered the last living dragon?”

Zuko looked at his uncle with badly veiled dismay. Why would anyone want to hurt such magnificent beasts was beyond him. 

“It makes me sad to think there aren’t any left,” he whispered even though he was old enough to know that he was expected to praise his uncle's heroic feat. Iroh didn't seem to notice his rudeness, instead he looked at Zuko pensively. 

“Care to join us? There is nothing like the rising sun of the summer solstice to practice firebending.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle, I’m not a firebender yet.” Zuko hung his head. His sister started bending already the previous summer, while Zuko has not yet been able to produce a single spark. His sixth birthday was looming - it was extremely rare for bending abilities to manifest beyond that age. 

His father has been growing more impatient with him by the day, and Zuko anxiously worked with firebending masters, without any results. It was a great source of frustration and shame for the young prince . 

His uncle patted his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry about. The fire is inside you, I have no doubt.”

“Stay with us, and after practice I’ll show you the firehawk nest I found. The little firehawks just hatched the other day and they do look like baby dragons,” Lu Ten whispered in his ears. Zuko grinned; going exploring with his big cousin was one of his favourite things in the world. Lu Ten knew all kinds of secret hiding places and fun cliff-climbing paths. He taught Zuko to sneak soundlessly, jump over rocks and climb onto the roof of the summer house much to his mother's dismay. He nodded. It wouldn't hurt to practice.

“Fire starts with breath.” Iroh said and sat down cross-legged at the edge of the cliff. The two boys followed his example. “Now just let your breath feed your inner fire.” 

Zuko tried to follow his uncle’s slow, deep breaths. He closed his eyes and thought of the dragons from his dream. He could feel the warmth of their fire spread around his body. He imagined their flames expanding with each breath. 

After what seemed like an interminable time of meditation, they switched to fireblasts. Zuko copied the fluid movements of his uncle and cousin. He took a deep breath, then pushed forward his arm in a forceful movement, as he had done hundreds of times before, expecting the same disappointment as always. Instead, he felt an unfamiliar tingling in his palms. He thought of the dragons again, and repeated the movement - this time the tingling intensified and a large orange flame escaped from his fist. 

“Did you see that? I’m a firebender,” the boy yelled with excitement. “I’m a firebender!”  Lu Ten picked him up and spun him around joyously. 

“You are, Zuko, I’ve never had any doubt. But even more impressively you are someone who never gives up.” Iroh gave him a hug. 

Zuko looked at them in triumph. His heart was beating joyously. “I’m ready to try a different move!” 

Iroh let out a thunderous laugh. “Always in such a hurry, Prince Zuko.”

“What’s going on here?”  Asked Ozai who emerged from the house and joined them on the beach. 

Zuko bowed to his father respectfully. “Look, father, what I can do.” He took a deep breath and repeated the fire fist move. 

Ozai watched the orange flame with the faintest hint of a smile. “So, the fire sages were right after all. You do have the spark, even if it’s not as strong as befit a royal blood. You’ll have to work very hard, if you want to catch up with your sister.” He put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. 

The boy’s chest swell with pride; finally his father saw it too. “I will, father. I will do whatever it takes,” he promised. 

 

 

-0-0-0-

 

“You are doing it wrong again, Zuko.” Azula yelled with frustration as she landed on her backside in the soft sand. “You have to fall over when I push you.”

“Why?” Zuko asked from behind the mask.

“Because you are the evil water spirit and I’m the dragon emperor. That’s how the story goes - the dragon emperor always wins. You have to fall over.” Azula’s voice had a slightly irritated edge. She did not like to explain things more than once. 

Zuko didn’t think that the game was a lot of fun this way. When he wrestled with Lu Ten, they never decided in advance who would win. “Well, then make me,” he growled at her defiantly. He may have been way behind when it came to firebending, but at least in hand-to-hand combat he could hold his own against his perfect sister.

Azula’s lips curled into a knowing smirk - as if she already won. Zuko knew from experience that the grin meant she had a plan to give her the upper hand, but he stubbornly ignored the inner voice whispering inside him to just back down. 

“As you want, brother.” Azula hissed and put back the dragon mask. She waved her red ribbon and started circling around Zuko. “Evil spirit, your end is waiting for you,” she recited dramatically the lines from the play they watched the night before in the local theatre.

Zuko spun around with his blue ribbon. “You misunderstand me - it is my destiny…”

Azula interrupted him angrily. “That’s not how it goes, dumdum.”

“Whatever,” Zuko shrugged and skipped closer to his sister waving his ribbon. He raised his leg, about to trip Azula, but she stepped back and hurled a hot flame at him, singeing the edge of his tunic. Zuko lost his balance and landed in the sand. Azula was in an instant on top of him, her fist engulfed in a large hot flame which she held right above his masked face. 

“I defeated you, evil spirit. Now yield or accept the consequences.” Her voice was commanding and cold.

“We are not supposed to firebend at each other.” Zuko stuttered in shock. 

“Admit you are scared. You can never win, evil water spirit. Your power is nothing compared to mine. Yield or die.”

Zuko didn’t know what to do. Azula always turned their games into a deadly blood sport. He knew all he had to do was admit defeat, but the words were stuck in his throat. “Azula…” he whispered. 

“What’s going on?” He heard his mother’s voice. Zuko saw her approaching with Uncle Iroh down the sandy path.

Azula lowered her fist and her voice immediately transformed into a sweet, innocent tone. “We are just playing the game based on the play. Would you like to see it, Mother?”

Ursa smiled at them warmly. “I would love to. What a handsome Dragon Emperor and Blue Spirit you two make.”

“Come Zuko. Show mother what you learnt.” Azula continued sweetly, though Zuko could hear the menace in her voice.

“I don’t feel like playing anymore,” he sulked and took off his mask. 

“Oh, I was really looking forward to seeing it,” his mother said with a wistful smile. “Don’t you agree, Prince Iroh?”

Iroh looked in Zuko’s direction, his knowing glance not missing the burn spot on his tunic. The boy felt that his intense gaze could see under his mask, could sense the hurt, the doubt, the pain. 

Iroh smiled back at Ursa. “I’m sure your children inherited your talent for the arts.”

Zuko took a deep breath. He didn’t want to give Azula her win, but he also didn’t want to disappoint his mother. The latter sentiment won out. He put the mask back on and performed his assigned role, falling over on Azula’s cue. Ursa and Iroh watched the reenactment and clapped enthusiastically at the end. “Wonderful. I’m so proud of both of you” Ursa smiled and gave a hug to Azula. “Isn’t it so much better when you get along with your brother?”

Azula cast a triumphant glance at Zuko and walked towards the summer house holding their mother's hand. Iroh looked at the boy. 

“You did very well, Prince Zuko. Real strength is knowing when to be weak.” Uncle Iroh was like that - he often spoke in cryptic proverbs which Zuko could not understand. Still the reassuring weight of his hands on Zuko's shoulders made him feel like that he managed to make the right choice. 

 

-0-0-0-

 

“I wish I could go with you and Lu Ten, Uncle!” Zuko set cross-legged, sharing tea with his uncle and cousin. Excitement glimmered in their eyes as they talked about conquering the great city of Ba Sing Se. Lu Ten had shown Zuko his magnificent, new  armour, decorated in the colours of the royal family. He already looked like the hero Zuko always wanted to be.

Uncle Iroh smiled fondly at Zuko. “Don’t be impatient, Zuko. Your time will come, maybe sooner than you would like.”

“Still, I’d like to go now - I could watch your back.” Zuko offered. “I already know the basic forms.”

“And if you keep practicing your firebending, when I lead my own army, I promise, Zuko, you’ll be there by my side.” Lu Ten gave wrapped his arms around Zuko's shoulders. “Just imagine all the places we’ll conquer together.”

“But first you have to learn about all those places, Zuko. So you need to pay attention to you lessons,” Iroh added with a fond smile. Zuko just hung his head.”What is it my boy?”

“I will be lonely here without you.” Zuko muttered. Lu Ten and uncle Iroh were always in his corner. Without them, the palace would become a less forgiving place.

“We will write to you, I promise. And we will be back in a few months.” Iroh promised.

Zuko stood up to leave. He was a prince of the Fire Nation, and a new military campaign was supposed to fill him with pride, not with childish concerns for himself. He put his hands together and bowed stiffly to his uncle and cousin. “I wish you success.”

Iroh opened his arms and Zuko ran into his warm embrace, trying to hide his tears. Lu Ten ruffled his hair and hugged him too.

Zuko left the room without turning back, afraid that they would see the sadness on his face. His father always scolded him for showing too much emotion - another way he failed to measure up. Unlike Azula, Zuko didn't know how to hide his feelings. He hurried through the corridors of the palace holding back the tears burning in his eyes. When he got to his room, he threw himself on his bed and started to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mugicha is a Japanese summer cold tea made from roasted barely. It contains not caffeine so young children can drink it too. I thought it would be a great summer drink for the Ember Island house.


	2. Sencha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iroh is back in the Fire Nation capital after his defeat in Ba Sing Se. Much has changed...

_**Sencha** _

 

_Shadows all around_

_Sad song of a broken heart_

_Standing still as death._

  


The Fire Nation capital had changed in the last three years, and it wasn’t for the better. Since Ozai had become Fire Lord, he cracked down on activities he considered unsightly. Gone were the street-performers who once brightened the street with their music or acrobatic performance. Some of the best tea shops in the city, where people gathered to discuss politics or just to play a game of pai sho were shut down by the secret police. Ozai was paranoid by nature, but maybe in this case, his suspicions were not completely unfunded; there were many who frowned upon the dubious circumstances of his ascent to the throne.

When Iroh had returned, some of his close military commanders approached him if he was to be the leader of such voices, but Iroh always cut short their questions, before it became treason and reminded them of their sworn duty. He had no fight left in him and it would have felt wrong to risk civil war and bloodshed. When Lu Ten died, he felt the pain of not just his death, but the pain of every death of all the soldiers who lost their lives under his command. Their souls were begging for meaning, and Iroh had no answer other than the deafening silence inside him.

The Order of the White Lotus wanted him to return because they felt he would be more useful inside the system than outside of it. So here he was, even though he did not see a clear path for changing the course of history. People like himself who believed in peace and balance were too few and voiceless amongst the cacophony of hatred, violence, prejudice and fear. He lost his faith in his destiny on the day he buried his son.

He walked slowly to the small house at the edge of town, set inside a luscious garden that he called home these days. He preferred the quiet, simple life that reminded him of being in the army to the pomp and suffocating conspiracy of the palace. He had only a couple of trusted servants to take care of cooking and cleaning, and they learnt quickly his moods and gave him space for quiet reflection when he needed it.

Iroh lit a candle with a flick of his fingers and stared into the flame. The spirits and the White Lotus seemed to think there was a reason he was alive, and he needed to figure out what it was. He let his inner fire connect to the flame surrendering his pain to the fiery dance, waiting for the flame to shed light in the dark tunnels of his fears, despair and hopelessness.

His meditation was disrupted by the sound of loud knocking. Iroh opened the door and found a woman with white hair, clad in simple clothes at his doorstep. She looked vaguely familiar to Iroh. She glanced around nervously, as if she was expecting someone to attack her. Her hands were clutching a small package.

“Do I know you?” asked Iroh trying to sound reassuring.

“My name doesn’t matter your Highness,” she addressed Iroh as if he was still crown prince. “I was asked to give you this,” she shoved the package in his hands as if it was burning her fingers. She bowed deeply before she turned around, and disappeared into the darkness. Iroh frowned. Maybe the woman belonged to the White Lotus, even though she did not say any of the trusted words.

Iroh went inside and slowly unrolled the package. A parchment fell out; it looked faded. As he unrolled it, he found a popular poem of Parzo, one of the greatest poets of the Fire Nation.

_When I leave today_

_Know that a piece of my heart_

_Stays, keep it safe, friend._

 

It was a well-known haiku from the novel of Seasons of Love. Princess Ursa used to love that novel. _Princess Ursa._ The thought flashed into Iroh’s mind almost unbidding. Her disappearance was just one of the many unwelcome changes awaiting him on his return. Would it be a coincidence? He wondered. He looked at the parchment carefully again and slowly started to warm it with his hands- careful not to set it on fire.

Sure enough, he could see the lines written in the invisible ink of the Fire Sages responding to the heat forming symbols. Just a few lines, written in haste.

_I can only trust that this package will find you eventually. I cannot express how sorry I am about all that has happened. No parent should ever lose a child, and yet it’s a pain we both have to bear. I cannot tell you more, other than to say, I wish I had another choice, but I did not.  Maybe one day you will forgive me._

_I have no right to ask you this, but there is no one else. The time will come when Zuko will need to remember who he is. You will know._

It was a cryptic message with no signature, but Iroh had no doubt that it was written by Ursa. Still, it did not really help solving the mystery of her disappearance. Iroh unwrapped the rest of the package. It was an antique royal headpiece with a distinctive shape. He recognized it immediately as Roku’s headpiece - all the pictures of the last Avatar depicted him wearing this - the symbol of his friendship to Fire Lord Sozin. Iroh had no idea that Ursa had the headpiece. He always assumed it perished on the day the Avatar died.

Iroh stared at the headpiece and the letter. So it was like he suspected; his father’s death and Princess Ursa’s disappearance had been connected somehow. He was not sure how he felt about it - he knew Azulon loved him, but it was a possessive, jealous kind of love. Iroh knew now the truth he tried to suppress for so many years; Fire Lord Azulon was not a good man. He hid his fears in cruelty, trying forever to live up to Sozin’s shadow. When Iroh heard of his death, he felt mostly frozen emptiness and just a hint of relief that made him deeply ashamed.

After a moment of reflection, Iroh set the letter in flames - it was safer for everyone that way. He rewrapped the headpiece and hid it in a chest.

 

-0-

 

“Uncle,” Zuko said softly as he entered the quiet house. After his defeat in Ba Sing Se, Iroh wandered around the world. But now he was back and set up residence in a simple house in town. There were rumours that he fell apart, lost his mind after his defeat not to be fit to be in any leadership position anymore.  Azula said he was a loser and a quitter. A lazy and weak old man.

Zuko was not quite sure what to think. True, the defeat at Ba Sing Se was the most humiliating defeat of the Fire Nation for many years, but still the young prince could not fully believe such rumours. It did not fit with the picture of Iroh he carried in his memories; the quiet confidence of a great firebender, a war hero and a kind man.

Zuko had waited  for a few weeks to be summoned by his uncle, but when no invitation came, he decided to visit. He wanted to see with his own eyes. He also hoped Iroh would have answers about his mother’s disappearance. His own search led him only to find a secret alcove with a set of theater masks and more questions burning in his mind. His father never answered any of his question, and Azula only laughed at his desperation saying that mother decided to leave them and was not worth their effort. Zuko could not believe that their mother would have left willingly. Her disappearance kept haunting him.

Uncle was sitting in a simple room and turned around as Zuko entered. He had grey hair and seemed much smaller than Zuko remembered. His face was redrawn with heavy lines of grief and pain.

Still, he smiled warmly at Zuko. “Prince Zuko. Come in, have a tea with me.” The world has turned so much since they had last seen each other. They both lost so much - Iroh his son and his throne and Zuko his mother. When Iroh left, he was crown prince, now Zuko wore the title. In that moment, he felt like a thief.

Zuko sat down on his heels. “Thank you, Uncle,” he mumbled. Having tea together brought back memories of how life used to be. After Zuko’s mother disappeared, they stopped having dinners together. Zuko usually ate alone, or sometimes with Azula, but never with his father. They lived in the same palace, but it didn’t feel like a family anymore.

“You have grown so much, Prince Zuko.” Iroh observed and Zuko felt like his gaze was piercing through him, measuring his worth.

Zuko watched as Iroh warmed up the water and put some loose leaves into the pot paying close attention to his movements like an artist working with a paint brush. Iroh elevated tea-making into an art form.

“I’m glad you are back, Uncle.” Zuko said awkwardly, but also realized he meant every word. Iroh was always a comforting presence in his life.

“It was time for me to come home, my boy.” Iroh nodded.

“Will you come back to the palace?” he looked at his uncle hopefully.

“I think it’s better this way for everyone.” Iroh looked pensively in his cup. Zuko thought of the dismissive, hurtful comments his father and Azula made about his uncle and couldn’t disagree as much as he wanted to.  “How is your training going?”

Zuko looked down trying to hide the discomfort in his eyes.  “I work hard at it, Uncle,” hoping that they would leave it at that. The truth was, he was still years behind Azula in terms of firebending. It didn’t matter how much work he put into it, he did not seem to progress much. It had been a source of shame and frustration. His father either ignored his existence or gave him cutting comments to remind every day what a disappointment Zuko was. Azula took pleasure in humiliating him, beating him easily in sparring sessions. Zuko dreaded going up against her, but did it anyways, hoping that one day he’d match his sister’s genius.

Iroh, who had always been perceptive, noticed the unsaid things immediately. “Why don’t you show me what you are practicing?” he asked.

They walked out to the terrace and Zuko focused hard trying to show a complicated sequence, but failing to get full blasts at each kick and hit like he was supposed to. He looked up at his uncle with anxious eyes, waiting for the usual words of disappointment.

Iroh simply nodded.“Don’t be discouraged, Prince Zuko. You teachers are rushing things too much. There is no use to practice such complex things if the basics are missing. Why don’t we resume your training?”

“Would you do that, Uncle?” Zuko felt excited. Before Iroh left, he used to show Zuko things and somehow his explanations made more sense than the ones he got from his teachers.

“With pleasure, my nephew. We’ll meet here at sunrise - it will be our secret.” Iroh winked at him, and for the moment it was like he was the same old, joyful Iroh.

“Come, I have something to give to you.” They entered the house again. Iroh went to a corner where a single candle burnt in front of Lu Ten’s picture. There was a box next to it. Iroh opened it and took out a weapon.

“Outside of Ba Sing Se, there was a blacksmith we used to visit to get repairs on the tanks. His craft was outstanding. Lu Ten bought this for you, Zuko. He thought that it was fitting for someone with your fighting spirit.”

“It’s beautiful, Uncle.” Zuko unsheathed the boardswords feeling the twin blades in his palms. Lu Ten was right, it was as if the blades spoke to him. “I miss him so much.” He nodded towards his cousin’s picture. Iroh embraced him, and they stood like that for a long moment.

“We’ve both lost so much, Zuko.” whispered Iroh.

Zuko nodded then finally worked up the courage to ask the question that never left his mind. “Uncle, do you know what happened to my mother?”

Iroh shook his head.“I’m sorry, I’m afraid, I don’t. But we’ll keep looking. Don’t give up.”

 

-0-

 

Iroh took a deep breath before entering the curtain of the war council. As a member of the royal family, it was his right to be there, but one, he had not practiced since his return. Once he had enjoyed the war room - it was all about strategy and tactics like a giant pai sho game, except the pieces were real lives. Now he had no wish to be there anymore. The conversation froze and all eyes were fixated on him as he entered. Iroh looked around the room, filled with people he knew; some of them old friends, others bitter enemies, who no doubt found a grotesque joy in his military disgrace. Iroh straightened himself and smiled pleasantly, as if his presence was just the normal course of events.

“I hope I did not miss something important.” He bowed, and took an empty seat at the end of the table.

Ozai’s face darkened but did not say anything. The Fire Lord just waved at General Zhao, who was in the middle of explaining a convoluted plan to quash a rebellion in a dusty little town recently captured from the Earth Kingdom. Iroh listened to the plan with distaste.

“What do you think, General Iroh?” Ozai turned to him suddenly when Zhao’s explanation was finished.

“Well, the plan is certainly bold. I’m just wondering if all that show of force is really necessary. Maybe all it would take is an act of generosity.  After all, it’s easier to catch a fly with honey than it is with vinegar,” Iroh said lightly.

“I can’t say we missed your proverbs, General Iroh. Well, what else would I expect from the laziest military leader of the Fire Nation?” Ozai sneered. “Force is all that the Earth Kingdom understands. General Zhao, go ahead with the plan.”

“Yes, Highness,” Zhao bowed sending a triumphant glance in Iroh’s direction.

When the war council adjourned, Iroh fell in step with his brother.

“So you are back for good then, Brother?” Ozai asked, not even trying to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m at your service, Your Highness.” Iroh said with exaggerated politeness.

“How can a failed general serve at my war council?” The Fire Lord had not made an effort to hide his disdain. His words were meant to be poison. Salt to be rubbed into the wound. Iroh thought of all he had lost - there was no poison that could make his pain worse.

“There is much you can learn from failure, Brother,”  Iroh sincerely hoped that Ozai wouldn’t have to experience a similar pain one day. It was not something he wished on even his worst enemy.

“There is only shame in failure,” Ozai retorted. Iroh sighed and let the subject drop. Pride always ended in shame but clearly his brother would have to learn this lesson for himself in time. Instead he changed the conversation.

“Can I ask you something? What happened to Princess Ursa?”

Ozai’s eyes flashed with anger and maybe a hint of fear. “Why? Have you heard from her?”

“No. Well, I just noticed she’s gone, but nobody seems to know what happened,” Iroh replied evenly, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Her name is never to be spoken in this palace anymore on my order. That’s all you need to know,” His brother replied curtly.

“Ozai…” Iroh said in a pleading voice - maybe talking as brother to brother would help him open up.

“I’m your Fire Lord and my word is the law. You would do well to remember that, Iroh. Treachery will not be tolerated, not even from my own family. Understood?” Ozai snapped.

Iroh realized that he would get no answers from him. Whatever connection there was between Ursa’s disappearance, Azulon’s death and Ozai’s ascent to the throne was something his brother was determined to bury. “Yes, Fire Lord.” he bowed and hurried away.

 

-0-

“

“Your form has greatly improved, Prince Zuko.” Master Taku, the firebending teacher, observed as Zuko helped up his sparring partner from the floor. “Seems like you are taking your lessons to heart.”

Zuko bit back a comment that his improvement had very little to do with Taku’s explanations who always emphasized that Sozin-style bending was the only one fit for a warrior and more with the secret sunrise lessons. For the past few months, three times a week, Zuko slipped out of his room well before sunrise, snuck along silently the rooftops of the city all the way to Iroh’s house where his uncle was waiting for him with a cup of hot tea. He practiced breathing techniques, basic forms and slowly felt his bending come together again. He became better at sparring, and he did not feel quite so anxious before his firebending lessons with Master Taku.

Zuko turned around when he heard slow clapping. Azula was standing in the corner with a mocking smile. “Well, well, Brother, look at you, almost like a grown-up.”

“Go away, Azula,” Zuko snapped, dread turning his limbs liquid.

“Come on Zuzu, I’m sure the crown prince is not afraid of his little sister. I heard great things about how you’re improving. I just want to see it with my own eyes.” Azula circled him with an innocent smile, but her eyes were like a wolf-lion’s honing in on its prey.

Zuko swallowed. “I’m just tired.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t keep you from your well-deserved rest, Brother. After all, not everyone has my endurance,” Azula taunted him.

 _Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait_ … Zuko repeated to himself silently. “I have plenty of endurance, Azula. Actually I have to go do a different training,” It wasn’t a complete lie. Zuko has been training with the royal guards, trying to work with the broadswords.

“What training?” Azula asked surprised. She usually knew everything that was going on in the palace. Information was power, and Azula knew how to wield it. Zuko kept the sword training secret from her. He didn’t know exactly why, but instinct told him if she knew, she’d find a way to use against him.

“I’m sword-training, Azula,” Zuko admitted reluctantly.

She grimaced. “A true bender wouldn’t need a weapon, but I guess, since you are having trouble, it makes sense for you to think of some back-up options, Brother. Well, I guess, we’ll just have to postpone our sparring session, Zuzu. But don’t worry, we’ll find the time,” The princess smirked and marched out of the room.

“I’m sure,” Zuko muttered. He took his leave and headed for the courtyard where the royal guard held training sessions. One of the guards, Keji, was skilled with the dao swords and was happy to show the prince some moves. Zuko enjoyed the dual blades more than the knives he used to practice with before. There was burst and energy to the movements - something that felt fitting to Zuko’s temperament.

He was charging, trying to find an opening in his sparring opponent’s stance when he saw everyone around him freezing. _Great, Azula followed me here too._ Zuko spun around but instead of his sister, he found the Fire Lord himself towering over him.

“So it is true. The Crown Prince has so little confidence in his bending that he feels the need to train with common blades,” His tone of voice said how little he thought of Zuko.

“Father, I just thought…” Zuko muttered but was cut short when his father lifted his finger menacingly.

“Prince Zuko, if only you put the same dedication and discipline into firebending as into playing with useless blades, maybe you weren’t 14 sets behind you sister,” Ozai’s face was dark with anger. Ignoring Zuko, he turned to the guards. “I forbid you to train with the prince. Understood?”

“Yes, your Highness,” The men all cowered and seemed relieved that they got off that easy.

Zuko watched his father leave with a heavy heart. He tried to explain that he thought as Crown Prince, he should know all the weapons commonly used in the army. But as usual, his father just thought he was only interested in playing games. With heavy heart, he picked up his swords and walked back to his room. He put them into a chest in his room - next to the theater masks he found in his mother’s room and closed the lid on the dreams and secrets that would have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sencha is a Japanese green tea. 
> 
> I think it makes sense that Iroh's return to the capital is to help the cause of the White Lotus, as an insider in the Fire Nation high ranks. 
> 
> I think it's also logical for Zuko to search out Iroh as he's trying to figure out what happened to his mum. 
> 
> It's a mystery, when Roku's headpiece ended up with Iroh - but I like the idea that it's something Ursa entrusted to him. In Zuko Alone, it seemed that Ursa and Iroh had a friendship. 
> 
> Zuko's firebending I think was not too bad around this time, though obviously nothing close to Azula's. But he was confident enough to accept an agni kai when he was thirteen. Since I think that he had trouble with Sozin's style rage-fuelled firebending, I like to think he might have trained with Iroh, already back here. 
> 
> I like to think that the dao swords are special for him in a way - that's why I made it a gift from Lu Ten. Also, I think his father wouldn't have approved him training with conventional weapons (being beneath a firebender) but also generally disapproving anything he chose to do.


	3. Ginseng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Agni Kai, Iroh visits Zuko and a journey begins.

Ginseng

 

_Your scar’s in my heart_

_Only the wise can see its_

_Radiant beauty_

 

Zuko sat in the dark room alone, his face covered with a thick bandage. The pain was excruciating but the tears were frozen inside him.  He was already humiliated enough when his father publicly declared him a coward; he did not want to give people the satisfaction to see him suffer and cry. The mark his father burned on him was a seal to keep them inside - tears were a sign of weakness, unbecoming of a prince.

He simply could not process what happened - he kept turning it around in his head, the dark threads of thoughts twisting and turning like sand-viper, until they became a tangled knot inside his mind. He had no idea what he could have done. _Fight father?_ People probably thought he was afraid to die, and maybe he was, but this was a fate in a way worse than death. Still,  the real reason he did not want to fight his father was because despite everything he loved him and respected him. He wouldn’t have been able to try to hurt him or burn him. So why was it so easy for him to make him suffer this way? There was only one explanation, one that Zuko didn’t want to think about so he shut down his mind.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“I don’t need anything, go away,” Zuko called out angrily. He would never come out of this room again. The door opened anyway. Zuko turned around furiously.

“I’m sorry Prince Zuko. I hope, I am not bothering you,” Uncle Iroh was standing in the doorway with a worried expression.

“If you came to tell me I told you so…” Zuko started bitterly. Uncle did tell him not speak at the war meeting, but he foolishly ignored the advice. He already understood what an idiot he was, he needed no word of wisdom to drive the nail in deeper.

“I simply came to share some tea with you, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said gently and gestured to the servant who entered with a small table and a steaming pot.

Zuko wanted to send him away with harsh words, but he was taught respect from a young age so he tried to control his temper. When they stayed alone, Iroh poured a cup for Zuko. “Here, take it, it’s ginseng, it will help you heal, my boy. You’ll need your strength.”

Zuko turned away. “For what? I cannot face those people anymore. They’ll remember that I’m weak and a coward.” As far as he was concerned his life was over. He just hadn’t figured out what the dead-alive were supposed to do.

“Choosing peace over violence, asking for forgiveness is not weakness, Prince Zuko,” Iroh sipped his tea.

“I have no patience for your proverbs, Uncle.  That’s not how my father sees it. That’s not how anyone in the palace sees it,” Zuko banged his fist on the table, the fine china cups clanked against the rosewood table.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it right. That’s why some distance could be good. Your father has agreed to let you go on a journey…” Iroh tried to sugarcoat it, but Zuko knew the truth. Azula wasted no time telling him about their father’s decision.

“You mean he’s banishing me,” Zuko said bitterly. “I’ve heard the news. Azula beat you to it, Uncle.”

“It’s still a journey, Prince Zuko, one I would be honoured to share with you,” Iroh looked him in the eye with so much kindness that the frozen tears started melt. Zuko could not afford any more signs of weakness. He turned away and retorted angrily.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Uncle.”

Iroh shook his head. “You certainly don’t, Prince Zuko. But you still need a teacher. Your firebending training is progressing well, it would be a pity to abandon it now if you are to face the Avatar.”

Zuko looked up in surprise. “You would give up your life here, just to teach me firebending?”

Iroh smiled. “I find these endless war meetings tedious, Zuko. I would love to go back to the world, I’m aching for a good roasted duck of the Earth Kingdom and silver leaf tea that you can only but at the markets of Omashu, to revel in the beauty of a sunrise over the ocean and to see the spirit lights of Southern Pole.  You would do me a favour, really.”

Zuko felt a knot in his throat - it was an act, but one he was happy to play along. He wanted to throw himself into his uncle’s warm embrace like he used to when he was a child and even the biggest problems could be fixed with a hug. But he was now a grown man, and such outbursts of affection were not tolerated in the palace. So he just put his hands together, and bowed towards Iroh without a word.

“Excellent, that’s settled then.” Iroh sighed contentedly. “If you allow me, I’ll put together a crew for your ship, Prince Zuko. I know some loyal and trustworthy men.”

Zuko felt a certain relief. He was given a ship by his father, but the idea that he would be surrounded by his uncle’s men rather than total strangers was comforting.  

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“We’ll be ready to leave tomorrow at sunrise, if you wish,” Iroh got up to leave. “I think it will be an adventure that may change both of our lives.”

Zuko stared after his uncle. Iroh certainly was a bit unhinged if he thought this was going to be some grand adventure. Still, he could not help it, a tiny seed of hope took root in his heart; maybe there was a future.

He asked the servant posted outside his door to bring him his trunk, but dismissed their help. He would learn to do things alone. He would prove himself stronger than what people thought of him. Zuko pulled out some simple, comfortable clothes than immediately regretted sending away the servant when he had no idea how to fold them himself. He put them in the trunk alongside with the knife his uncle sent him from Ba Sing Se and his broadswords. His mother’s picture, the one he had been hiding in his room along with the mask of the Blue Spirit he found when he searched mother’s room after her disappearance. And that was it. Everything that was precious to him. _Never forget who you are, Zuko._ In this moment, it was hard to know who he was. _I am Zuko, son of Ursa and Firelord Ozai, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation_ , he repeated it like a mantra. _Banished prince_ , a voice remarkably like Azula’s mocked him inside his head.

Zuko closed his eyes. He knew he was being sent on a wild goose chase. Not great-grandfather Sozin, not grandfather Azulon, not even his father managed to find any trace of the Avatar. Well, Zuko would prove them all wrong. They will see his worth one day. He would prove to father his worth because he had to.

 

-0-

 

The harbour was grey and empty. “That’s all General Iroh,” the captain announced. Lieutenant Jee had served in Iroh’s army for long years and he was a trustworthy man, as well as an experienced sailor. Iroh explained to him the situation, and warned him that it was likely to be a long mission far away from home.

Still, Jee volunteered and put a crew together for him; men willing to share their exile. Iroh felt immensely grateful for their loyalty. It was something once he used to take for granted but his failure at Ba Sing Se taught him to be grateful about such everyday miracles. He examined the little ship that Ozai gave to Zuko. It was a small, rusty boat, about to be taken out of commission of the Fire Nation navy which had ordered bigger, newer vessels. It was meant to be a slight. But Iroh saw beneath the rust and wear; this boat was resilient and agile, unlike those newer, big machines. The success of the Fire Nation navy was built on such small ships as this one, they were maneuverable and adaptable.

Zuko arrived escorted by palace guards who even chained him up. Obviously that was completely unnecessary; Zuko was an obedient son and would do as his father ordered without the need for such theatrics. Not that Ozai earned the boy’s obedience. Iroh’s blood was boiling at the injustice of it. He wished there was more he could have done. He wished he stood up and brought an end to that mockery of an ancient ritual. He wished he had spoken in defence of the young prince. He wished…many things.

 _How could his brother mistreat his own son this way?_ His mind couldn’t comprehend. He would have given everything for one more day, one more hour with his beloved son. He would have given everything for a chance to embrace him, to tell him how much he loved him. But the spirits refused to listen to his plea. He was needed for something else, something important. They told him that he would be given a chance to set things right. Iroh was not sure if this was what the spirits talked about, but he felt with his entire being that he was _needed_ here.

Zuko looked pale, but his face was nevertheless stony. He tried very hard to keep his composure and dignity. Ozai was trying to break him, but the boy refused to break. He stood with his head held high as a fire sage read the terms of his banishment and asked if he understood it. He was never to return home, set foot on Fire Nation lands or sail on Fire Nation waters unless he captured the Avatar. Zuko said he understood. Iroh had to give the boy credit, his voice did not break. The guards removed his chains and escorted him on the boat. Iroh could see the disappointment on his face when he saw the rusty old vessel, but he didn’t say anything.

He nodded to the crew that stood all lined up on the deck and greeted him with a bow customary in the presence of royals. Iroh stepped closer to him and put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “The crew is awaiting your order, Prince Zuko,” he said formally.

“Let’s set sail towards the Western Air Temple,” Zuko announced. He stood then still as a statue on the deck watching the harbour intently. His unbandaged eye grew wide when he saw a royal palanchik appear at the dock. For a moment even Iroh felt a glint of hope that Ozai changed his mind and would call off this farce. They watched with breath held back as a sole figure climbed out of it and watched the boat. It was Princess Azula. The siblings stared at each other in silence, neither of them waved, neither of them spoke, neither of them cried. Iroh guessed that Zuko must have left without saying good-bye.

After the harbour disappeared in the mist, Zuko retreated to his cabin and slammed the door. Iroh waited for him to come out, but the door stayed closed. After a few hours he knocked gently on the door. When Zuko didn’t answer, Iroh opened the door, quietly worried about what might have happened to him. Zuko sat on his heels meditating in front of three candles, his mother’s picture in front of him. A single teardrop was running down on the un-bandaged side of his face. Iroh’s heart was breaking; he was too young for all this suffering.

He stepped closer, trying to comfort him, but his hand froze halfway when Zuko turned around angry.

“I didn’t say you can come in. I want to be alone, Uncle.”  His voice was furious and hostile, his face grim and determined. Iroh sighed. Maybe Ozai did not break him fully, but the damage was done. He wondered what it would take to find that kind boy again under the layers of prickly armour hardened by hurt, pain and something much more sinister - cruel rejection.

“Very well, Prince Zuko.” Iroh said patiently and closed the door. He went up to the back of the deck and watched the sunrise above the sea. Their destination was unclear in his mind, but he knew that it was important to keep moving - maybe they’d end up somehow in a better place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the tears and angst, but these are dark times for both of them.


	4. Silver Leaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko struggles with fire-bending and Iroh has an idea and invites a master to teach the young prince something he always wanted to know (or I always wanted to write a Piandao trains Zuko fic)

**Silver Leaf**

 

_There are no wrong turns_

_Fellow travellers we share_

_Amazing secrets_

  
  


“Why doesn’t this work? I don’t understand.” Zuko yelled, staring dejectedly at his hand which was puffing mostly smoke and weak sparks of fire.

Iroh sighed. “Something in your mind is blocking you from reaching your inner fire, Nephew. Maybe you need more time to heal…”

“I’ve had enough time. I need to train and make sure I’m ready to face the Avatar when I find him.” Zuko retorted angrily.

Iroh suspected that picking back up firebending after the fateful agni kai may not be as simple as Zuko imagined. After leaving the Western Air Temple, the young prince insisted on restarting his training immediately, supposedly to prepare himself for a standoff with the elusive Avatar. Iroh suspected that his impatience was more about trying to prove himself that he was not the weakling his father claimed him to be. Still, he was just a hurt boy, with terrible scars inside and outside that only time would heal.

“Maybe if we take a break and share a nice cup of tea.” Iroh offered patient.

“Not everything can be solved with a cup of tea, Uncle.” Zuko stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They had been on sea for weeks now, and Zuko grew more impatient and his temper got worse every day. He lashed out at the crew, at Iroh, at random people on the markets while they were shopping for supplies. He banged his fists against the wall, sometimes until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. But he never cried.

He needed a break from firebending, a distance, but resting was not something that came to Zuko naturally. His pain and rage were fuelling a nervous energy inside him that needed an outlet. Preferably more positive than hurting himself or others.

Iroh leaned against the railing and watched a tiger shark swim by the boat - its body sleek and dangerous. It circled around them. Iroh wondered if he was getting it all wrong. A tiger-shark needed to keep moving to stay alive. If it stopped swimming it sank to the bottom of the ocean and died. Maybe Zuko was more like a tiger-shark. Maybe it was time to give him what he wanted. Iroh pulled out a sheet of paper and dipped his paintbrush in the ink, sealing the letter with the mark of the white lotus.

 

-0-

 

“You wanted to see me, Uncle?” Zuko entered the upper deck room of the ship. Iroh was sitting at the table with a tall, wiry man, with an inevitable teapot and a pai sho table between them. While he was beating his head against the wall, trying to come up with strategies to find the Avatar, all Iroh seemed to care about was his stupid tea and that boring game. Zuko had a sudden urge to kick over the table. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at the stranger.

“Where are your manners, Prince Zuko.? Greet our esteemed guest, Master Piandao.” Iroh said on a voice that made Zuko feel like a misbehaving child.

He grit his teeth, but put his hands together and bowed politely towards the man. “It is an honour to welcome a firebending master on my ship,” he said with well-practiced politeness.

“Thank you, Prince Zuko. Though I am not a firebending master.” The man said mildly as he returned his greeting.

Iroh explained. “Master Piandao is the most distinguished swordmaster in the Fire Nation and a good friend of mine.” Zuko felt deflated. A swordmaster, no matter how distinguished is certainly not going to solve his problems with firebending.

“Prince Zuko, your uncle tells me you have an enthusiasm for blades.” Master Piandao looked at him with curiosity. Zuko indeed practiced much on his own with the knife and the dao swords Iroh gave him, until his father forbade him to waste his energy on weapons not fitting for a royal firebender.

“My father said that for a firebender it’s a waste of time.”

“Nothing that you have a passion for can be a waste of time.” Master Piandao said.

“As my old friend is heading to the same destination as we are, I agreed that he could come with us - with your permission of course, Prince Zuko.” Zuko knew that Iroh did anyways as he pleased, but he liked to emphasize how Zuko was in charge of the ship. It was a well-oiled choreography they had mastered during the past weeks. “It would be an opportunity for you to train with him.”

Zuko thought about this. Since his firebending was useless at the moment anyways, there was no harm in learning something he wanted to master for so long. Who knows if he would ever have the opportunity again to learn from a true master. It was definitely better than smashing his head against the wall in desperation and boredom.

He bowed to Master Piandao. “It would be an honour if you could teach me, master.”

“Very well, Prince Zuko. Why don’t we meet at sunrise tomorrow. Bring along your favourite blade.”

 

-0-

 

Zuko woke up before the sun. For the first time since his banishment he was really looking forward to his day. He took the broadswords from thr wall and headed to the deck waiting for Master Piandao to arrive. The swordmaster appeared soon, hand curled over a steaming cup of tea and greeted him amiably. He picked up his swords and bent the blades with practiced moves.

“Dao - a dual blade. Only a select few can master this weapon, Prince Zuko. These blades are beautiful. They look plain but there is a superior craftsmanship.” He handed the blades back to Zuko then pulled out his longsword. “Well, let’s see what you can do.”

Zuko looked at him with wide eye. “I never had formal training, Master.”

“Well, let’s see then you informal training, Prince Zuko,” smiled Piandao. Zuko took a deep breath and charged at the master, he parried easily and knocked out the blade from his left hand.

“What have you learnt?”

“I need to pay attention to both blades equally?” Zuko looked uncertainly at the master.

“Well, let’s test that theory. Try again.”

Zuko picked up the blade and charged again, this time strengthening his grip on the hilt. THe master parried easily again his attacks, and with a lightning-quick movement, the point of his sword was pointing at Zuko’s throat, the length of his single blade and his arms making it impossible for Zuko to reach him.  The prince was impressed. Master Piandao clearly knew his stuff and Zuko would learn.

“What have you learnt this time?”

He thought for a moment. “That if I pay too much attention to my blades, I’m not protecting myself well enough.”

“Exactly, Prince Zuko. That’s what makes the dao such a difficult weapon to master. Most people think of it like two separate blades. But it’s an illusion. It’s a single weapon, the two swords are parts of the same whole. Mastering them requires balance between the two sides of yourself. You need to understand and treat the weapon as an extension of your own body. Not something you do, but something you are.” Zuko listened intently trying to follow the explanation, but it went a bit above his head.

“I’m ready to practice, Master.” He announced enthusiastically.  

“Very well, let’s go inside then for your first lesson,” nodded Piandao.  

“Inside?”

“You need to write poetry, Prince Zuko. About what you learnt today.”

Zuko groaned. It looked like Master Piandao shared more with his uncle than just a taste for tea. He was most definitely not going to write poetry. “What does writing poetry have to do with me learning to fight with swords?”

“I just told you. Dao swords require balance. ‘The two halves of your body need to function in harmony. All swordfighting requires determination, but also creativity. Writing poetry helps you access that fluidity and creativity of your mind that is so sadly neglected these days in school.” The master grimaced in a way that showed his contempt. “Oh, and you must write it with your left hand.”

Zuko sat down with a sigh. He held the paintbrush in his left hand. It was an entirely awkward feeling. The pristine blank sheet stared back at him mockingly. _Poetry, right_...

His mother loved poetry - she used to read her favourites to Zuko and Azula. They sometimes played games of rhyming words or throwing haikus at each other. Azula got the syllable count right every time, but Ursa said Zuko’s words had more soul. Whatever that meant. Obviously, after mother left, there were no more rhyming games or haiku battles, only deafening silence.

Zuko tried to think back to the swordmaster's explanations about balance and a single weapon. He could do this ridiculous thing if it meant he would get to master the broadswords. It was something he wanted to learn ever since he saw the Blue Spirit dance with the blades in the theater. The dark water-spirit was supposed to be the bad guy, but in Zuko’s opinion, he only ever wanted to do what was right. But sometimes the path was not so clear, the difference between right and wrong could get real blurry. Zuko understood that; in his own life sometimes things weren’t so clear either.

 

_Two sides of one sword,_

_Whether it is left or right_

_The blade is just you._

 

The words emerged from the depth of his soul. He dipped the paintbrush in the ink, and with extreme concentration, like a young pupil trying to write for the first time, he tried to form the symbols of his poems. The paper was soon filled with childish scribbles, the odd ink blots and smudges. He triumphantly carried the sheet over to Master Piandao who was playing pai sho with uncle Iroh.

His teacher took an amused look at the sheet. “Interesting Prince Zuko. But explain to me why do the carrots sing?”

Zuko made an indignant face, but the master was right. His symbol for blade definitely looked more like a symbol for carrot. He huffed than snatched back the sheet. Sitting back to his writing table, he tried to write it down over and over and over. After 20-odd crumpled up sheets, he was satisfied enough that he took it back to Piandao.

The swordmaster read it and nodded. “I think you’ve understood this lesson very well, Prince Zuko.” Then he showed the poem to Iroh. “I didn’t know your nephew you had a poet’s soul.”

“My nephew has many hidden depths, my dear friend. He is a very talented young man.” Iroh said warmly. Zuko felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. Both men, respected masters seemed to genuinely like his poem. They thought he was talented. Nobody ever thought he was talented in anything, at least compared to Azula. Even if it was something as stupid and useless as poetry, the praise gave him a pleasant rush.

 

-0-

 

The following morning Piandao made Zuko attack again. Instead of charging blindly like the first morning, Zuko tried to spin around, dodging his teacher’s blade, using his agility to get closer to him without losing his blade. He managed to dance around the master’s sword for a while, until he knocked out Zuko’s blade with a fast sidecut that he never saw coming.

“How much can you see out of your left eye, Prince Zuko?”

Zuko looked at him surprised. Nobody ever talked about his scar. People just pretended it didn’t exist or that they didn’t notice. Which was ridiculous, considering that it was a huge scar. Of course everyone noticed it. It was almost a relief that someone didn’t pretend not to.

“Enough, I think.”

“You’ve done a good job at dodging and evading this morning, but you didn’t see the side cut. Don’t worry, even if your peripheral vision is restricted, you can learn to use your other senses to expand your vision. A real swordmaster is aware of all his surroundings and knows and anticipates every blow before it lands. Turn your back. I’ll throw some things in your direction, lets see if you can cut them.”

Zuko turned his back and started to whack blindly around him at what turned out to be flying mango and yamyam roots. He managed to cut the ones more often on his right side. But the master was right, on his left side he had trouble seeing them. He waved his blades around furiously, missing the target every single time.

“You have to use your senses, Prince Zuko. Don’t try to see them. Feel them.” Zuko closed his eyes and paid attention to the noises, smells, vibrations in the air around him. He managed to cut the mango flying in his direction in half this time.

He kept practicing. When Piandao got bored, the crew took over. They clearly took great pleasure at chucking produce in his direction. Zuko figured that he deserved at least some of it considering how he treated them. In any case, he didn’t care as long as he could keep practicing. By the evening, his hair and skin was sticking with fruit juice from all the misses and his muscles trembled from exhaustion, but he felt a sense of accomplishment as he managed to slice perfectly the last five papayas that Lieutenant Jee threw on his damaged side.

By day three, Zuko was completely convinced of Master Piandao’s methods and did not hesitate to follow even the most outlandish instruction. He threw himself into painting pictures of the boat, sneaking around the kitchen in stealth mode stealing pies, balancing on one foot on a platform tied to the mast as the waves bounced the boat. It was thrilling to see his hard work rewarded - every day, he duelled his teacher, and every day, he could hold his own against him just a little bit longer.

 

-0-

 

Iroh looked out the cabin window at Zuko who was hanging upside down from a rope tied to the mast, he was  blindfolded and spent the last hour trying to break free of his bounds. As a firebender he could have easily burnt through the rope, but instead he tried to work it out without the use of his bending.

He took a sip from his cup and turned to Piandao. “I think our plan is working, my friend. Thank you for coming.”

“I had my doubts, Iroh. But your nephew is a remarkable young man, even if he has a lot to learn. I don’t recall ever teaching anyone as hard-working and stubborn as he is.”

“Yes, but I think besides hard work, you have given him something he sorely needed.” Iroh mused. When Piandao raised a questioning eyebrow, he added. “Some fun.” By Agni, Zuko was still just a boy, yet he had so much pain and so little fun in his life to the point where he didn’t seem to know how to allow himself to enjoy anything.

“So what are your plans, Iroh? Are you going to bring him into the society?” Piandao asked. “The Crown Prince could be a great asset to the cause.”

Iroh looked outside and shook his head. “No. He is not ready. His heart and mind is still full of his father.” As much as Ozai did not deserve it, Zuko truly loved his father and wanted to please him. He would not be ready to face the truth. If he ever joined, it had to be his own choice, not another destiny forced on him.

“So the grand master is just going to aimlessly travel around the world babysitting a grumpy teenager?” Piandao asked sarcastically.

“Well, it gives me cover to visit all our chapters and put a plan in motion.” Iroh pushed a tile on the pai sho table.

“What plan?”

“It will come to me, I hope.” Iroh said. “But I feel that Zuko is somehow going to play an important part in it.”

“Or maybe your judgement is clouded. You waste your energies on saving one boy instead of saving the world.” Piandao was on the attack, threatening Iroh’s dragon tile.

“One life or the whole world, what is the difference?” Iroh blocked the attack by sacrificing his white lotus tile. The dragon was essential to the strategy he was playing.

“You are philosophical, Iroh.”

“After all, the White Lotus is about philosophy…”

The door opened and Zuko appeared triumphantly. “Oh, I see you freed yourself.” Piandao gave him an appreciative glance.

“Come, join us. I just put on a pot of tea.” Iroh added.

 

-0-

 

On the last morning of Piandao’s stay, Zuko duelled the master for a good hour, using his strength and agility and superior knowledge of the boat to his advantage.

“Prince Zuko, you have demonstrated the agility of a shadow panther and the heart of a lion. They are both qualities of a great swordmaster. But you also learnt to see the terrain and use it for your advantage. Courage and skill are nothing without strategy. You have a dedication to the art of the blade that will elevate you among the greatest blade-masters. These blades will protect you and those you love, if you wield them with honour.” Piandao said. “I hope we will meet again.”

“Thank you, Master. For everything.” Zuko bowed respectfully.

 

-0-

 

After Piandao left, Iroh broached carefully the subject of picking up firebending. “Tomoki volunteered to train with you, Nephew.”

Zuko nodded. He soon appeared on the deck with his blades in hand. “I’m ready to start, Uncle.”

“But…” Iroh looked at him with confusion.

“I want to see what I can do against a bender.” Zuko clarified and turned to Tomoki. “I order you to attack.”

The sailor assumed his stance and sent a fireblast towards Zuko. He dodged it easily, and with two quick leaps, he was on top of Tomoki, the blades pointed at his throat. Zuko helped him up.

“Again,” he said. Tomoki tried again, this time sending more forceful blasts in Zuko’s direction, but the prince bested him again easily. Zuko ordered two more crew members to help Tomoki and danced and dodged around their fire attacks with ease.

“See, Uncle?” Zuko turned to Iroh. “I have my swords now.”

Iroh frowned. Maybe his strategy was backfiring. _Did Zuko just give up on firebending? Was it a mistake to let him train with swords? In the end, he didn’t think so._ For the first time, Zuko seemed a bit more confident, like he was thriving. _Just give it time,_ he reminded himself. _Zuko will tell you when he’s ready_ . _A tiger-shark may learn to leap, but it will never forget to swim. It is his essence._

 

-0-

 

It’s been two weeks since Master Piandao left. Zuko had spent his days training with his swords, learning about navigation with Lieutenant Jee as they were heading for the Northern Air temple. He fell asleep on his cot while reading a scroll about Sozin’s war against the airbenders - hoping to find clues about where the Avatar may have disappeared to.

The dragons came back that night in his dream. _They were circling him. “We are fading, Prince Zuko. We need you,” they pleaded. Zuko reached out his hand. The red dragon opened its mouth and imbued it in flames. Zuko cried out in his terror, but it didn’t hurt. He moved his fingers and watched the flames dance in delicate patterns. “Never forget who you are, Prince Zuko.” The blue dragon whispered._

Zuko jolted upright. What did his dream mean? He looked at his hand, the one that was in flames in his dream. He felt the familiar tingling. He opened his palm and a healthy flame appeared, dancing cheerfully. He looked into the fire. _My name is Zuko. Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. I am a student of the ways of the sword. And I am a firebender_ . 

He felt the first rays of sun before he could see them. He got out of bed and went to the deck. Iroh was sipping tea watching the morning mist over the water. “Good morning, Prince Zuko. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Zuko sat down next to the table. “Uncle, I’m ready to resume my firebending training.”

Iroh looked at him curiously but only nodded. “Very well. You have a lot to unlearn, but I believe we’ll get there in time. But first things first, try this excellent blend of silverleaf I found at the market. It’s made from unopened blossoms - it tastes like new beginnings.”

Zuko took a sip and listened impatiently to Iroh explaining in great detail the process of growing and harvesting. Finally, he couldn’t help himself and interrupted his uncle.  “It just tastes like tea, Uncle. I’m ready to start.”

Iroh laughed, it was a rumbling sound that came from the depth of his ample belly.  “The impatience of youth.” Still he rose to his feet and assumed the first position of firebending. “All firebending comes from the breath…”

Zuko imitated him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath, the salty sea breeze filling his lungs. As he listened to the ocean waves crashing against the hull of the ship, he could almost picture that faraway morning on Ember Island when he realized for the first time that he was a firebender. He could almost taste the pure joy of that fleeting moment, when fire filled him with pride and exhilaration, instead of bitterness, dread and pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to square the circle of Zuko being a good enough firebender to accept an Agni Kai at 13, while still struggling with his basics three years later. I think the trauma of his father burning him set him back completely and Iroh had to rebuild his bending from scratch (also to try to unlearn the rage-fuelled Sozin style). 
> 
> I really loved the idea of Piandao trying to teach him a similar way as he did with Sokka. As I can't imagine Piandao training with him in the palace as a kid (no matter what the comics say), I much preferred Zuko learning from him during his exile not as a child, but as a teenager.


	5. Oolong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko suffers from PTSD and Iroh is trying to break through the plateau in his bending

**Oolong**

 

_ If the flame is gone _

_ If only ashes are left _

_ How do we fight on _

 

 

“Argh!” Zuko yelped in frustration. The little flame he was trying to control, flared up, burnt the little stick to ashes and died. 

Iroh took a long sip of his cup and lit another twig. “Again.” 

Zuko groaned. “Uncle, I have been practicing this ridiculous meditation for three days. How is it going to help me fight the Avatar? Do I challenge him to a meditation duel? I want to work on advanced sets.” 

“You are not ready, my nephew. Control is the most important thing for a firebender. You need to be able to feel your fire, to make it as big or as small as you wish, to aim it precisely and to extinguish it.” Iroh explained patiently. 

Zuko seethed inside. This was humiliating. He may not have been the prodigy like Azula, but he’d been training for years. Certainly he was beyond the basics. “I’m not some little child, Uncle. I know my basics. You WILL teach me the more advanced sets.”

“Zuko, you need to forget what you have learnt as a child. That type of firebending will not serve you anymore.”

“What does that mean? I don’t understand, Uncle. It feels like you are just trying to hold me back. Maybe you don’t want me to fulfill my destiny.” He hated how he sounded like a petulant child.

Iroh opened his palms revealing a dancing fireball. “Try to draw this flame to you.”

Zuko focused on the fire trying to feel its warmth. He willed it to come to him, but it did not budge. He gritted his teeth pouring all this frustration and anger into it.  _ I refuse to fail,  _ he kept repeating in his mind like a silent mantra. The flame suddenly leapt off of Iroh’s palm and went straight towards Zuko’s face. It was hot and bright and unstoppable. Zuko froze in terror. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. _ You will obey me. You will learn respect and suffering will be your teacher. _ Before the flame could touch his skin, Iroh stopped it with a strong circular movement and it dissipated into thin air leaving only a wisp of smoke. 

Zuko turned away, hot tears of shame piercing his undamaged eye. He bit his lips not allowing the tears free.

He trembled slightly as Iroh put his hand on his shoulder and said gently, “Prince Zuko, it is normal to feel this way. There is nothing to be ashamed of - I’ve seen many seasoned warriors after getting hurt…”

Zuko longed to melt into the old man’s embrace and howl his pain into the world, but he suffered enough humiliation for the day. He jerked away from the touch, keeping his back turned to his uncle. “Don’t…”

“It will get better, I promise. But it will take work and it will take discipline and most of all, it will take time. You have to give yourself time to heal,” Iroh pleaded with him.

“I don’t have time!” Zuko growled.

“Zuko…”

“Leave me alone!” he yelled now. The flame of the single candle of flared up, then died. Darkness fell onto the room. Zuko heard the soft click of the door as his uncle left the room. He punched the metal wall until his fists were raw and bleeding. 

-0-

Iroh sat motionless on the deck, same as every dawn. He busied himself by preparing his tea, while anxiously glancing at the deck door. Maybe he pushed Zuko too soon, too hard. But he couldn’t think of another way to show Zuko what he asked for was too soon. There was a day in every warrior’s life when they stared death and pain in the face and it changed them forever. It was different for everyone - for some it was a smell of smoke, for others the scream of fear or the springy sound of a bow released that brought back the sheer terror that turns blood into ice and limbs into stone. It was the hardest fight to overcome, because it was a war within. 

The door opened and closed quietly. Soft footsteps signalled Zuko’s arrival. Iroh made a cautious sideways glance at his nephew. He was pale and the dark circles around his eyes bore witness to a sleepless night, but he had a grim determination on his face. He was not going to give in to despair without a fight. He never did. 

Zuko gave his uncle a formal bow and sat on his heels, fingers touched together in the shape of the sun. The classical pose of firebending meditation.

“We just circled by the Boiling Rock.” Iroh said casually. Zuko’s eyes popped open, even if he kept himself stiff in the meditation pose.

“I’ve heard of it, it’s the most secure prison in the Fire Nation.”

“Indeed, it’s impressive, built in the middle of a boiling lake.”

“And what is that?” Zuko squinted towards the horizon on the North-West. 

“It’s the ancient ruins of the sun warriors, a civilization that lived there long time ago. Now it’s just an empty island with rubble,” Iroh replied cautiously.

“The sun warrior civilization? I’ve never heard of it….” Iroh was not surprised. Much of the Fire Nation history that did not fit with Sozin’s philosophy has been erased from the scrolls.

“They learnt firebending from the dragons themselves. At least that’s what the legend says. Would you like to see the ruins?”  he asked cautiously. He couldn’t take Zuko to the dragons, but if he heard their call that would be another story. Zuko stared intently at the blue outline of the island then shook his head. 

“We cannot waste time to visit ancient ruins, Uncle. We must press on to find the Avatar.”

Iroh nodded and poured him a cup of tea.  “What is fire?” Even if it wasn’t time to see the dragon, maybe it was time to provide his nephew with a different perspective. 

Zuko looked back with confusion. “The element of power.”

“That’s the school answer, Nephew.” Iroh nodded. There used to be different styles of bending in the Fire Nation, with a rich tradition of rivaling schools of philosophy searching the meaning of fire. Many fire-benders of old day dedicated themselves to the art of communing with the flame. Unfortunately, with the war, philosophy was not valued anymore, only unlocking raw power as fast as possible. The Sozin-school of firebending was a brute, unrefined craft aimed at creating the largest blasts. Iroh was not surprised that Zuko was as ignorant about the deeper meaning of fire as most children his age. “But if you think about it - where does it come from?”

“From our inner fire…” Zuko shrugged.

“And where is that coming from?” Iroh prodded.

“You are born with it.” 

He shook his head. “That’s not true. The gift of Agni is called a spark, because that’s all it is. But a spark dies if it’s not fed by air and fuel.”

“Air is…” 

“Air is your breath. That’s why breathing is so important. One never gets too old for a good breathing practice.” Iroh noted with a deep belly laugh. “But air and spark is not enough. You need fuel. What is your fuel, Prince Zuko?”

“Ferocity,” the boy replied. 

“Then let me see your flame,” Iroh told him. Zuko breathed in and opened his palms where he cradled a small orange flame that flickered weakly in the breeze. 

“Good. Now use your ferocity to grow it,” Iroh said.

Zuko tried but nothing happened. “Why doesn’t it work?”

“Fire needs the right fuel. It is connected to willpower. What is it you want Prince Zuko?” Iroh asked.

“To find the Avatar,” Zuko snarled between gritted teeth, keeping his gaze on the flame. It remained stubbornly small and cold.

“But why?” 

“To regain my honour,” the prince said. The flame didn’t respond.

“What does it mean, your honour?” Iroh asked.

“I don’t want people to think I’m worthless,” Zuko whispered. He sounded defeated.

“What you don’t want is not rooted in your will, it’s rooted in your fear,” Iroh said gently.

“I’m not afraid!” Zuko yelled and stormed off. Iroh closed his eyes as he heard Zuko’s door shut close with a loud bang. It was going to be a long, painful road.

-0-

“One-hundred-and-two… one-hundred-and-three…” Zuko counted stubbornly and kept pushing. His tired muscles screamed for him to stop, but he was determined. He would not show weakness. He would train as hard as he could. He would…

There was a soft knock on the door. Zuko sighed. He was definitely not in the mood for another heart-to-heart with his uncle or to be on the receiving end of his pity. Iroh - as always - entered without waiting for his reply though. 

Zuko sat up soaking the sweat that covered his naked upper body with a towel. “Why did you disturb me?”

“I’m sorry, Prince Zuko.”

“You can see that I’m in the middle of training,” he growled.

“It’s not enough to train the body. You have to train your mind too, Nephew. You might find these useful in your quest.” Iroh handed him a dozen of thick scrolls, all of them yellow and ragged at the edges.

“How could a bunch of old, dusty scrolls be of use?” Zuko asked with exasperation. He never liked school much, reading boring speeches of Fire Lord Sozin and Azulon, reciting dates and details about glorious battles. It was tedious and he often daydreamed. “Victorious warriors win first then go to war, defeated warriors go to war first then seek victory.” Iroh replied with one of his maddeningly vague proverbs.

“What are you saying, Uncle?” snapped Zuko.

“No general can win without knowing their enemy. It’s time you learnt more of the Avatar’s history.”

“The Avatar is the enemy of my father. What else do I need to know?” Zuko shrugged.

“I’ve always found that one can make the best decisions if they have all the information. Give it a chance, Prince Zuko. These stories may help you when the time is right.”

Iroh dropped the scrolls on the bed and left. Zuko’s first instinct was to set them on fire, but there was a part of him that wanted to know more. In any case, there was a dull monotony to the sea voyage. It’s not like he had anything much better to do. He unrolled one of the scrolls and started to read.

_ “Balance is not a single triumph, but an unending war. Battles are fought, without and within and only an unwavering soul can withstand the temptations and trials of power. I am Avatar Kyoshi and I am leaving you the story of my strife…” _

-0-

They were on the Northern Sea waters, the winds were chilling to the bone. Zuko was sitting in a thin silk shirt and a pair of light pants on the deck. His lips were turning purple-blue from the cold, and his teeth were chattering with cold.

“You have the warmth inside you to fight the cold. Just breath, find your spark and your fuel.” Iroh repeated for the fifth time. He hoped that the cool air would jolt Zuko out of the plateau he had reached. He was able to produce a small flame, but he had not been able to feed it properly. Until he found his fuel, his firebending training was stuck. 

“I’m tr-tr-trying, Uncle,” Zuko shivered. “I can’t feel anything, it’s too cold.”

“Let your breath fan your fire - your breath of fire.” Iroh let out a big healthy flame through his mouth. His inner fire roared and filled his limbs with pleasant warmth.

Zuko took a deep, controlled breath, and Iroh saw some sparks by his nostril. The sparks swirled in the wind then died. “You need to fuel it.  What’s your fuel, Prince Zuko?” It was a question he asked his nephew every day for the last week. Fuel was something personal that each firebender had to find. Some burnt with love, others with anger, some fuelled their bending with idealism, others with a hunger for power. Zuko so far was unable to answer it.

The boy’s eyes flashed with frustration, annoyance, anger, but then it started to glow with something else, something intense. Iroh held his breath - maybe finally they were on the right track.

“I am going to prove him wrong! I will find the Avatar and I will restore my honour.” The words came raw, almost like a dam broke. Iroh could see the fire roar inside him - his lips turned red, he clenched his smoking fist and as he let out a strong breath, a small flame escaped from his lips. 

Iroh held back a chuckle. Of course. Spite. Sheer bloody-minded spite. That was the answer. Maybe not the most high-minded fuel, but it was definitely something they could work with. He nodded approvingly at Zuko and smiled. The boy looked back defiantly, but there was just a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to put together how Zuko was still working on his basics after three years of sea voyage. My pet theory is that after the agni kai he suffers a huge setback in his bending, and even when he's able to produce flames, he's too afraid of fire to really fight. 
> 
> That's why Iroh teaches him instead of offensive bending, lots of control, basic breathing techniques (including his famous breath of fire), as well as many defensive techniques. 
> 
> We don't know how Zuko fuelled his bending pre-agni kai, but whatever the method, the Sozin-style bending never suited him. I think Iroh was trying to rebuild his bending into a much more balanced style.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on Tumblr [@royaltealovingkookiness](https://royaltealovingkookiness.tumblr.com/)


End file.
